Month: November 2018

Rest required

I have a few chronic illnesses, some that I’ve written about in the past…it doesn’t matter what they are, just know that they exist and they impact every facet of my life.

I recently defended my dissertation (Yay Me!!!) now it is time to focus on job hunting (Why me?) and this is where chronic illness is front and center.

So I’ve lived with these chronic illnesses for many years and I’ve achieved my educational goals…although things never went smoothly…and now I’m exhausted

I have important people to contact, cover letters to compose, and applications to complete…but I’m tired.

I’m not only tired from the arduous process that is a doctoral program…my chronic illnesses are screaming at me to pause temporarily.

My chronic illnesses are suggesting that I breathe, meditate, then rest. Sigh.

As many of you know, application deadlines and all the many things necessary for getting a job fails to account for the fact that your (my) chronic illnesses demand that I rest.

Some of you may even go so far as to say, if I need rest during the application process, I’m likely not able to do the job for which I am applying.

Then there’s others who would say that the PhD process is tedious and the typical person would need a break, so it’s not unusual that I need a break…in the form of a short rest.

The problem I often face as a result of being chronically ill is that I wonder if I’m being lazy or I really need the rest.

Those closest to me suggest that I simply need the rest, but even that’s not always convincing enough to stop my negative self talk

As someone with chronic illnesses, it is hard enough to deal with some outsider suggesting that you are lazy, incompetent and yet many of us, myself included engage in negative self talk when our bodies demand self-care.

I am someone who possesses chronic illnesses, but I’m also more than that. I am someone who needs accommodations, but I’m also more than that. I am more than any identifier I possess…if only I consistently believed that.

Writing is (was) my refuge

At one point writing was a refuge. I found my peace through my words.

The mental clutter would clear when I wrote

Once upon a time, writing was my refuge.

I need that time to return. I have so many thoughts and I struggle to organize them

I’ve never been quite this insecure or unsure

Perhaps it’s just a transitional phase and I’ll pass through it soon enough

But writing used to my refuge

My thoughts had to quiet when I wrote. Now they are still jumbled but I’m trying to find my refuge

I’m looking for my safe space.

At one point, writing was my refuge

Control

My battle with chronic illness failed to teach me that I had little control of life.

The tiresome, tedious path to my PhD failed to teach me that I had little control of life.

When will I learn that I have little control of life?

When will I accept that I have little control of life?

Will I ever relax and enjoy life?